Unanswered Letters
by Captain101
Summary: 48 weeks, 48 letters. Each one sent back. But then one day he recieves a letter that drags him back into the world he left behind. A letter that tells him why the letters suddenly stopped. A letter that changes everything. NOW COMPLETE
1. The Unanswered letter

**_Unanswered letters_**

**_Disclaimer: I'm in the Caribbean, with a cocktail, smoking a cigar and commenting on how successful my comedy genius is. Or, if that illusion doesn't suit, i'm a yr 12 student, procrastinating, sweating over a computer and crying hopelessly because Noel Fielding and Julain Barratt own the Boosh... are the Boosh. Lucky #&!!_**

It was a month before the first letter came. I'm not sure what took him so long. Was it a month to pluck up the courage? Or a month to think of what to say? Either way the first letter arrived exactly month after I left.

I still remember what it felt like, how strange it was. How odd I felt holding it, wondering what it said. It wasn't long, I could tell by how light it was. No more than one sheet of paper.

It took me three days to decide what to do with it.

I send it back on the Thursday.

On the Monday a second letter came. This one was heavier than the first. More to say? He'd had more the think about, surely.

Either way, I sent that one back on the Wednesday.

I nearly opened the third when it came. I split the corner. A tiny tear, but it was enough for my courage to dissipate and the old anger to resurface. I sent that one back that same day.

I did the same with the fourth when it came. Every Monday a letter came, every Tuesday I sent it back.

Forty eight weeks, forty eight letters. I sent each one back. By then I wasn't even sure why he kept writing. By then, I wasn't sure why I couldn't bring myself to listen.

Then, on the forty ninth week since that first letter came, another came. One that I wasn't expecting. A letter so much lighter than the ten pagers Vince had been sending, it could only have been one page maximum. A letter addressed in a different hand.

Naboo's hand.

It was so different, so out of the blue, I kept it. Apprehensive about why after so long Vince had finally stopped writing, apprehensive about what Naboo would have to say instead. So I put it on the shelf. Every intention of reading it.

One day.

I knew that it was probably a letter to berate me, tell me about what a berk I was, which was fair enough. Vince had shown me in the twelve months since I'd left that he did miss me. Vince had always been the type of person who couldn't stick to one single thing for long. He was like a magpie, moving from one shiny thing to another. I had been the only constant in his life, and then I left and he still wanted me to be the only constant. He kept trying, trying to bring me back.

But id ignored him. In my anger I let him stew and now he'd given up.

So I kept the letter. Placing it on the bookcase with my birth certificate and the deeds to the house. There it stayed. I'd get it down once in a while. Once a month, just to look at it, think it over. But then I'd get a feeling in the bottom of my stomach that felt strangely like guilt and the letter would go back to the shelf and I'd try and forget about it once more.

But then the next month would come, the fifth, always the fifth, and then I'd get it back down.

But it always went back.

Until today.

Like usual I checked the mail, tea in one hand, chewing on the last of my toast.

I had four things, a notice from the bank, a bill, postcard from France and a letter. I opened it. Ignorant of where it had come from. Until I looked at the handwriting. Naboo's handwriting.

I froze. My name staring up at me. I swallowed, my throat contracting as I did so. I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply. Opening them I looked down at the page apprehensively. It was definitely Naboo's handwriting. Crossing the room I sat on the edge of the couch. The inside frame sticking into my butt painfully. I didn't want to be comfortable. The letter in my hands was bad enough, it felt like it burned. It had been close to two years since I'd last seen Naboo. In two days time it would be a year since his last letter came.

Apprehensive I looked down at the page.

_Howard,_

_I'm not sure why I'm doing this. I know for a fact that you haven't visited. It's been a year on the fifth and you still haven't visited him. You're a ballbag. _

_Anyway, if you didn't notice in the paper, there was a fire in the shop a couple of weeks ago. We didn't lose much. What we did was precious though. Bollo's going mental. Anyway, a couple of us are getting together and you can come if you want. It's up to you. IF you do come, bring some photos. I need to copy them for Bollo. We're meeting at nine thirty – at the shop._

_Naboo._

I looked up, slightly more confused at the letters contents than my own courage in reading what Naboo had to say. He wanted to meet. I had to bring photos. It had been a year on the fifth.

Now that confused me. It had been _two_ years on the fifth. Not a year. The only thing that had come on the fifth, exactly a year ago was…

I looked up, my eyes automatically finding the letter on the bookcase.

The letter. The only thing that had happened exactly a year ago on the fifth was that damn letter. More nervous than before I walked the eight steps across the room and plucked it off its shelf.

My name stared up at me again. Pressed harder into the paper than usual. I'd scrutinised it long enough to have guessed already the contents were bad. That the hard pressure on the page bode Ill and the short nature of it only made it worse. I was definitely expecting a yelling at. Sliding my finger into the tiny tear on the envelope I tore it. The faint scent of the shop wafted into the room. Some old spices, dust but the scent was somewhat lacking. It only took me a second to guess that it was the fruity scent that continually surrounded Vince that was missing. My heart thumped painfully at mention of his name.

Pulling out the paper I took a deep breath before unfolding it.

I was going to need all the strength I could get.

_Howard, you ballbag!_

_I don't know what he saw in you! _

_After all this time I've been waiting for him to wake up. To see he could do it without you. He never did. He pined for you when he should have been getting better. He should have focussed on himself, but you wouldn't let him. _

_He died this morning._

_Last thing he asked was about you. I didn't have the heart to tell him the letter came back. But he knew. He always knew._

_This all would have been different if you'd listened._

_If you'd just bloody listened, you berk, everything might have been different. _

_He deserved better. You should come to the funeral at least. It'll be in the paper. But just a warning Howard. Come near me and Bollo again and Bollo will rip your arms off. And I'll let him._

_Naboo._

The world reeled. A rhythmic sound, a steady beat echoed. Rippling through the air – the only sound I could hear. It drowned out everything else. The only thing I could see was the letter. It fell from my fingers. They were numb. My whole body felt heavy.

Boom.

The letter took an age to fall.

_He pined for you…_

Boom.

_If you'd bloody listened…_

Boom.

_It's been a year._

Boom

_I know for a fact you haven't visited._

Boom.

_He deserved better._

Boom.

_Vince died this morning…_

Boom.

_Last thing he asked was about you…_

Boom.

I looked up, tears rolling down my face. The sound echoing.

_Vince died this morning… the fifth… _

That's when I knew. The sound was a heartbeat – mine. I leapt off the couch, my feet moving away from the letter. Open and discarded on the floor. It's contents burned into my brain.

_He pined for you… should have focussed on himself… he deserved better…_

He was dead.

That's why he stopped writing.

"Vince." I whispered. The sound escaping my lips in a strangled sob. I didn't hear it. The sound of my own heart beat still reverberating in my head.

Boom.

_Vince…_

**_There we go, chapter one. I'm both hopelessly in love and desperately hate this story. So it will definately continue and we'll see whether i can manage to complete something that isn't a one shot. Angst is definately my forte, so this (i hope :P) will only make you cry. I'll try and get chapter two up soon, dont count on a two day split though... i have my HSC coming up in like... 6 weeks, so AHHHHHHH! but this fic will keep going as is. And no, i am NOT going to write all 48 of Vince's letters... that would be insane, even for me. But there will be a couple in here. Later... i think. :P and if not, maybe a spin off fic. :P_**

**_Anyway, enough rambling from mwah, i hope you 'enjoy' this, and i'm sorry to the boys, hopefully Vince and Howard get a far better ending than the one's that i come up with... although, some of them are quite ahem fun. XD_**

**_Captain Jacq_**


	2. Pancake times

_**AN: you lot owe me big time! See, THIS is a testimony of how much your reviews affected me. I didn't have this written (I had the idea though) this morning. But now I do. Thanks for the lovely words, and im sorry if I've made you cry already. I'm hoping I can continue the flow… but not with this chappie. I'm hoping this may result in a small chuckle – at least part of it.**_

_**Obviously this opening bit is a flash back, and I'm aware that I started chapter one with first person, which will continue – I like being directly inside Howard's head, - but I will have bits from Naboo's POV, but not yet… Howard still has to make it to the Nabootique. . I have the main chapter written, but not chapter 3 – so you will have to wait. :P (the main chapter I'm hoping will flood me out, but we'll get to that later.) Anyway, I hope you enjoy this next bit, a small piece of sunshine in the gathering dark.**_

_**Captain Jacq**_

_**Disclaimer: Not mine, otherwise, well I think it's obvious it wouldn't be as good. :P**_

_**Chapter two**_

Howard groaned, another large crash echoing throughout the flat. Blinking against the light that flooded in through the badly closed curtains he glanced around, everything slowly coming into focus.

Glancing at the clock 6:27 slowly sharpened. He groaned again. Howard was usually the first one up. Relishing the hour or so until he had to drag Vince out of bed so he could get the little man down in the shop before eleven. He was usually alone in the early hours with Naboo and Bollo taking the oddest hours, Howard was never really sure when the Shaman was asleep and when he wasn't. All he knew today was that the pair had gone out Djing the night before and there was more chance it was them returning than Vince ever getting up voluntarily.

Another bang echoed and Howard rubbed his eyes, dragging his body from the realms of sleep. Who ever it was had made sleeping on incomprehensible and there was only one thing for it. Getting up.

Throwing off the covers Howard couldn't help but shiver as the cold air rushed in. He was a morning person; the mornings were the best times of the day, filled with promise, yes sir. Vince on the other hand was a Night Owl,

He had the eyes for it at the very least. Large glowing orbs that absorbed any light in the room turning it into endless energy. Vince must be like a plant, Howard mused, using photosynthesis.

Yawning and feeling slightly smug at his own analogy, Howard pulled on his dressing gown and ventured out into the flat.

"Yes!" a shout of triumph echoed from the kitchen followed by another series of small crashes. Howard couldn't help it, he quickened his pace and upon emerging couldn't help but stare in a mixture of horror and surprise. Already dressed (a shock in itself) Vince had an array of packets and containers open and spread across the kitchen bench. A book open in front of him, Vince was bent over a frying pan, a stack of badly cooked pancakes steadily accumulating. But the entire kitchen, it seemed, was completely covered in a mess of flour and pancake batter.

Howard stared in shock. Everything was white, and sticky - but Vince alone was pristine. Immaculately groomed, not a speck of white in his hair, on his face. Nothing.

"Vince! What! How? This?" he spluttered. Vince turned around and the look on his face resembled that of a small child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"Hey Howard." He muttered, a look close to disappointment on his face before breaking out into his trademark grin.

"Did I wake you?"

"What on earth are you _doing_ Vince?" Howard asked, incredulously.

"Oh. Umm, well I was cooking, pancakes. Blueberry pancakes." Vince beamed, indicating the stack of black pancakes.

"I had to make a second batch. The first ones were horrible, I think I forgot to add the sugar and – "

"Why?" Howard asked, cutting Vince off.

"For your birthday." Vince blushed. For the first time Howard glanced around. Taking in the banner hung over the couch, 'Happy Birthday Howard' in bright colours, the table half hidden under a stack of boxes of which all were wrapped in a two separate contrasting colours. Along with the pancakes it was apparent Vince had gone to a lot of effort.

"My birthday? Vince, my birthdays not till tomorrow."

Vince's face fell.

"Oh, well I guess I was so caught up in it all I got a little too excited." Howard grinned; he'd been worried the little poof would forget, like he had been doing a lot lately.  
"Why all the fuss little man?" Vince was quiet for a moment, wringing the spatula in his hands nervously.

"Well I wanted to make it up to you, Howard. See last year we went to the zoo, cause

that's where I wanted to go, and you almost got eaten by the lion, and then we got thrown out. And the year before it was that party, an' that was horrible too cause that's what I wanted. So this year I thought we'd do what you always say you want to. Have something small and safe, at home. So I did, Bollo was gonna help me make these, but he's not here. But I spose that's cause I got the day wrong." He looked away again, his cheeks red under the pale foundation.

"You did all this for me?"

"Yeah." Vince muttered. Howard couldn't help himself. He beamed.

"Guess we'll have to celebrate early this year." Vince looked up at Howard, his cheeky grin almost splitting his face in two.

"Yeah?"  
"Of course. Can't have all this effort gone to waste, now can I?"

Vince laughed.

"Genius, Howard. Sorry about the pancakes, I'm getting good now – see the top one's aren't burnt." Howard couldn't help but laugh as he looked down at the stack of pancakes. If you could call them that. Vince was telling the truth, the top ones weren't _burnt_, but they were the darkest shade of brown Howard had ever seen.

"Yeah," he grinned, his grin turning to a shout of surprise as a large dollop of something cold and sticky hit him on the head. He looked up and couldn't help but laugh. It was going to take him forever to clean, but right now he didn't care.

"Vince, how on earth did you get mixture on the ceiling?"

Vince grinned.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

I stared down at the letter, Naboo's handwriting blurred so that it was impossible to read, but it didn't matter. I knew every word.

Every word about Vince.

Vince.

Vince who I had abandoned.

Forty Eight letters.

He'd sent me forty eight letters and I hadn't read one.

Why I couldn't bring myself to read them. I don't know. I simply couldn't do it. No matter what was in them every time I held them I couldn't make myself open it. Couldn't make myself read it.

And it had cost Vince his life.

Tears spilled out my eyes again and I bit my lip. I wanted to bleed. To punish myself. But I couldn't even manage that. I stopped, my lip numb where I'd clenched it between my teeth.

_He should have focussed on himself…_

I let out a scream of fury, kicking out at the couch. My foot connecting painfully, producing only a dull ache in my big toe. I wanted more. I wanted something to distract me from the stabs going through me. Pain that pierced my heart and managed to work it's way down to settle in my stomach. I had the urge to vomit, but I knew I wouldn't be able to. This was penance. But it was too late. Something had been wrong. I should have known that, realised it at the time, but I hadn't thought it out. I had let the anger consume me. Anger I hadn't felt for him back then, but had found in the month it took for him to seek me out. Anger that with each day passing by and broke open wounds I hadn't felt when I could look into his blue eyes and lose myself in his enthusiasm. Enthusiasm that had progressively dissipated in the weeks before I left, replaced with someone I steadily didn't know.

Had there been something more in that? More than Vince simply no longer wanting my company? Or had he pined away for me like Naboo said? Had my leaving, my inability to listen to anything he said, driven him past the point of repair? Had I killed him?

Letting out another scream I ran into the kitchen, rummaging through the top drawer for the keys. It took me a second to get a hold on them. My fingers still numb. Once in my grasp I hurtled out the door, stopping only to lock it behind me. My hands were shaking so badly I stopped, staring at the car. I couldn't drive. Not like this.

I looked at my watch. 8:23. I had exactly eight minutes to get to the bus stop.

Three blocks away.

Keys in my pocket, Naboo's letters burned into my brain I ran. The image of Vince's blue eyes beaming up at me as we finished his ill made pancake batter and his laughter ringing in my ears chasing me down the street.

_Should have focussed on himself…_

I had to know.


	3. Colobus Cranky

_**Here we go – Chapter 3. I'm really loving the response this is getting, so I'll try and keep a regular update. Things are in the process of being revealed, so keep watching this space and you'll find out everything!**_

_**Disclaimer: I hope to God that the Boosh don't have such a melodramatic imagination as mwah, cause if they do I think we're in need of a rescue mission for our favourite characters. – in other words you should be thankful it's not mine!**_

I bend double, leaning against the side of the bus stop in order to catch my breath. I hadn't had to run like that in years. In fact I think the only time I had ever run this fast was back in high school when the top bully decided he wanted to make someone bleed and I was a prime candidate. Breathing hard, I heard the familiar rumble of the bus and looked up to see it coming up the road. I'd made. It. Reaching into my pocket I found the jumble of keys but no change. Swearing at myself I glanced around at the mixture of about twelve people reaching into their wallets for their travel cards or money. I couldn't help but feel both a sense of pride and be horribly disappointed at the same time as I reached down and fiddled with the hem of my pants. The twenty euro note was still as crisp as when I'd put it there. Be organised and it made life so much easier, my father always used to say. For times like these I was thankful for all his advice. Vince had used to laugh when he caught me using my father's military skills in real life. My heart thumped painfully again and once more I saw his face. Bright blue yes staring at me from under that well cared for fringe. I should have listened to him. I should have opened them - all forty eight of his pleas. But at the time it was so much easier. Everything he said had made leaving so much easier. The memories of those words made being angry easier than it had ever been for me. But I remember that those first few times I sent a letter back it was more for him than myself. I'd let him go for his own good, and he hadn't seen that. I hoped that in sending them back he would see this is what was best. But he hadn't. He'd kept sending them and it became obvious that the sacrifice I made wasn't apparent to him. He was still as blind to everyone else as he always had been. That is what made it easier to send each letter back as it came.

That's what made being angry easier, made being stubborn easier.

But if I hadn't, if I'd stopped - just once - then maybe things would have been different. If I'd chosen to remember the good times instead of the bad, then things would have been different. But even now I can't help but wonder. _Would_ it have made a difference?

I don't know. I'm frowning as I join the queue to get onto the bus and I know I'm still frowning when I take a seat. It's not a frown in the sense of the word, but simply how my face is choosing to display my displacement. Inside, I'm doing a lot more than simply frowning. Inside I'm still screaming. Inside, I'm tearing myself apart.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Bollo go and put Colobus on." Howard heard Naboo mutter, he smiled, 7.30 – Colobus time. Opening the cupboard Howard removed the popcorn and put it in the microwave, pressing the button and standing by to watch the plate begin to circle and the first kernels start to pop. Howard loved Wednesday night. It was the night when the popcorn came out and Vince was content to stay in front of the television for the majority of the night. It was nice to stay in together when Vince was usually confined to his room, dancing to loud music, down at the pub with Leroy or either performing or rehearsing for whatever performance he had at the Velvet Onion. It was nice to have a normal night in once in a while. Digging into the cupboard Howard found the large popcorn bowl and grabbed the second packet of popcorn from the shelf as he did so. The microwave beeped loudly as the first batch came to a rest, the small packet now bursting at the seams. The warm smell wafting heavily up Howard's nostrils. He loved the smell of fresh popcorn.

"Vince watch Colobus?" Howard heard Bollo mutter from the lounge room as Naboo returned, slippered feet difficult to hear over the now blazing television.

"Nah."

"What?" Howard asked, peering in from the kitchen, Vince never missed Colobus. They had the entire collection of the crab's works, but Vince never missed the Wednesday night repeats. Howard wasn't certain, but he was pretty sure Wednesday was Vince's favourite night of the week. It was certainly the one he knew how to spell.

"Vince isn't up to watching it tonight." Naboo muttered, looking up at Howard from where he'd slumped down on the couch next to Bollo.  
"That's odd – he never misses it." Howard mused, "I'm going to see what's wrong."

"No, Howard!" Howard heard Naboo call, but by this time he was in the hallway and outside Vince's door.

He knocked twice before opening it straight away, flicking on the lights.

"Jeez! Turn em down!" Vince swore, reeling back from the light, eyes firmly hidden behind his palms.

"Fuck, Howard – turn it down! Turn it down!"

"What's wrong little man?" Howard asked, obeying as he pulled the door shut behind him.  
"Nothing! I just don't want to watch it tonight." Vince muttered removing his hands slowly, his eyes tiny as he blinked at the light.  
"But you never miss Colobus." Howard stated standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. He felt stupid and concerned for Vince at the same time.

"It's just a TV show, Howard." Vince replied sourly.  
"Yeah – but it's _Colobus._"

"So – Howard, I've got a headache! Fuck off yeah? I just want to sleep."

"Vince -"  
"I said fuck off Howard!" Vince snapped, sitting up to stare at his best friend, blue eyes blazing.

"Alright." Howard muttered, alarmed at Vince's attitude.  
"Turn the lights off!" Vince yelled falling back onto the bed, fuming at Howard and pushing his hands firmly back over his eyes, shielding out the light, while Howard pulled the door shut feeling extremely put out and nervous. Vince never yelled, most especially, Vince never yelled _at him._

"I think it's best if we leave him be, Howard." Naboo said as Howard stumbled into the living room again.

"Yeah." Howard muttered, more confused than he'd ever felt. Did Vince no longer want to spend his only free night of the week with him, Howard?

Howard slumped against the couch, watching as the familiar Colobus opening flashed on the screen and the theme echoed from the speakers. All of a sudden Colobus the crab wasn't so fun.

"I'm going to bed." He muttered to Naboo, getting up and walking back the way he came, his foul mood deepening even more as he passed Vince's room. Gary Numan resonating through the door.


	4. Rising Sun

**AN: how good am I? Chapter four already! (This is overly impressive for one such as I – be nice :P) I'm glad you're all enjoying this so far. I am as well, so it's a nice combination! Anyway, thanks for all the reviews, I feel so happy each time I look to see them there. I can't help but smile. Anyway, Buttons to answer your question are Howard and Vince together? I have no idea :P – no, no they're not. They're simply 'friends' (but we all know they should be more) and just so you know I made that decision right this second. Hahaha.**

**Anyway, here's chapter four, and this chapter is dedicated firstly to Howard, as forgiveness for interrupting his sleep AGAIN and secondly to all the fic writers out there, because you've all influenced me in my Boosh writing, some quite a lot more than others and it would take me a while to figure each individual fic out – I think I may have read almost everything in the archive. I think in the next chapter Howard will reach the Nabootique and then it will really get rumbling. Naboo angst FTW! Anyway, I hope you all keep on enjoying this, and do so while you can… I'm getting ready to pull out (what I consider) my big guns and my tears bucket quite soon. **

**Captain Jacq**

**Disclaimer: we've been through this before. You know the drill. I'm a massive genius who has way more talent than Julian and Noel. So why on earth would I play in their sandbox? HUH?! **

"Is this seat taken, Love?" I look up into the face of an old woman, her face crinkled with smile lines.

"No. Be my guest." I reply, shifting over so the old woman can sit down. The bus begins to grumble again as we set off towards the next stop. I glance down at my watch.

8:52.

Fifteen minutes until my stop.

Dammit.

I turn my attention back to the window. The sun can only be half seen behind a cloud. Why, I don't know. If the weather wants to shine then shine – and then I can easily hate it with good reason. If it wants to cloud over then it should.

Why half and half? Why not cry? Why won't the heavens cry? I sigh. Why can't I cry? I want to. I want to scream and sob and fall to pieces. But I can't. Something won't let me. There's like a lock in my chest. It's there. Sitting somewhere between my heart and my throat. A lump that refuses to move.

"You know the world shines if you let it." I look up. The old woman's looking at me. Her eyes bright and shining. The way Vince's used to. He used to look at me like that. Complete misunderstanding about how I can see the world so grey.

"Not this world."

"But you know, if you smile it makes everything a bit brighter. The world isn't that bad. You can find a smile in anything, you know."

"Not this."

"Tell me, Love, what's so bad you can't find a smile in it somewhere?" I stare at her. Red coat and curled hair. She even slightly resembles Vince when we'd tracked down Nanatoo. The lump in my throat grows. I can barely breathe anymore. I cough, clearing my throat.

"I learned today that my best friend has been dead for a year, and I never knew a thing because I didn't open any of his letters. He wrote to me every week for a year and I didn't listen, and he died and I didn't have a clue. Because I was angry at him. Because I was stubborn, because I thought I was doing the right thing. But he's dead. I betrayed him. So tell me, _please,_ tell me where I can find a smile in that." I look away. I can't bear to see her expression. I desperately want to cry now. But the lump is still there. The block is still there. Stopping me.

"I'm sorry Love."

"Yeah. Me too." I mutter, I feel a hand on my arm. The old woman's looking up at me.

"It'll be alright, Love. I think if he loved you that much, he'd forgive you." She can see my guilt. See the pain. I nod, mute. She seems to understand.

"Thing's will sort themselves out, love. They always do." She's so kind, I open my mouth to thank her, but the bus dings and comes to a shuddery stop.

"My stop, Love. But don't worry. I think by the end of today you'll smile again." She struggles to her feet and I watch as she exits the bus, hair curled and dragging her carpet bag behind her as she stumbles up the pathway to the school. I watch her enter the school as the bus pulls away.

A grandmother arriving for story time.

"You know Howard, when I'm old I'm gonna be like them awesome old people. I'll like visit schools and give out sweeties and fashion tips. None of that reading stuff. Nah, you can do that. You can read em stories and I'll make em cool."

"Vince I don't think schools will condone an old man handing out strawberry bootlaces."

"_I don't know what that means Howard, but I'm still gonna do it. Bootlaces and Saturn Zingers – it'll be genius."_

For the third time since I got on the bus I want to cry, but can't.

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Howard groaned, thumping his pillow as he rolled over. He blinked, the sounds of someone out in the flat echoing through the door. Their attempt to be quiet not quite working. Howard groaned again. He opened his eyes all the way, but it was still dark. He glanced over at the glowing clock.

5.23

He groaned again. There was no chance of sleeping again now – not until he knew who it was who decided that five in the morning was a good time to be up and about. Dragging himself out of the covers into the cool air he crept across the room.

"Vince?" the young man looked up, startled as Howard exited his bedroom. The look on Vince's face told Howard he was almost as shocked to see Howard as Howard was to see him.

"Oh, hey Howard. Did I wake you up again?" he whispered from where he was perched on the window seat, staring out at the horizon.

"Yeah - it's alright though. What's wrong little man? You're not usually up this early." Vince gave Howard a small smile.

"I couldn't sleep."

"Nightmare?"  
Vince took a moment to answer.

"Something like that." He replied softly.

"You know it's because you eat too much sugar too close to bed time. If you didn't fill up on wine gums and sour worms before bed time you'd be fine." He chuckled, crossing the room to take the seat next to Vince's.

"Yeah, but sour worms and wine gums are genius Howard. They're way cool – not like them biscuits you eat." Vinc grinned, Howard sighed, rolling his eyes.

"Howard - do you remember how we used to watch the sun rise? Back at the zoo?" Vince said his voice barely above a whisper as he stared back out at the slowly brightening sky. Howard stared at Vince, taken aback. It wasn't often that Vince talked about the zoo. A lot had happened there, but they never seemed to mention it. It was simply a part of their lives they'd left behind. It's was almost like the ability to discuss that part of their lives had disappeared along with Vince's blonde streaks.

" Yeah." He replied, watching his friend. Vince's face was impassive as he stared at the sky.

"I do. I miss that." He fell silent for a moment. Howard relaxed. It was so comfortable, right here in the silence. It had been a long time since he's felt so comfortable in Vince's company. There was just something there, not overly noticeable, but ever since the roof there's been something like… awkwardness between them. An awkwardness that's steadily transformed into something slightly like hostility. Hostility that Howard can't seem to shake – no matter how hard he tries. How hard Vince tries. It's always there. Hiding just below the surface.

"Howard, will you watch the sun rise with me?" Vince asked, turning to gaze into Howard's eyes.

"Yeah, sure."

"Not here – on the roof." Vince smiled. The hostility of the last couple of weeks utterly gone as Howard returned the smile – the hostility gone if only for a moment. The shouting, the drinking, the awkwardness, it's all gone in favour of reminiscing in another time - a lost time. If only for a moment.

"I'd be honoured little man." Vince beamed, the brightly coloured dressing gown he'd donned draping around him as he stood up. He swayed dangerously for a moment.

"Woah. Guess I stood up too fast." He giggled clutching Howard to stop himself falling, Howard smiled.

"No problem at all, Vince – but you know it's all because you're too bouncy!"

"Yeah, but bouncy is fun." Vince replied, with a cheeky grin.

"You coming?" Howard replied quietly, attempting to keep his voice from reverberating in the early morning silence. Crossing the room he pulled the window open.

"Yeah." Vince smiled back, bouncing across the room on his heels. Howard rolled his eyes chuckling. He knew Vince was grinning as he held out a hand to help boost Vince up onto the ledge and out into the cool air.

"I missed this." Vince sighed as Howard pulled himself up next to him. Howard smiled, watching Vince out of the corner of his eye. Vince looked tired.

"Yeah, me too." He muttered in reply.

"I'm glad I'm out here with you Howard. I'm sorry about everything, you know. I don't mean to yell. It's all just so weird at the moment. I feel weird." Vince muttered, he didn't look at Howard when he spoke though. He gazed out at the sky. Something like awe shining in his eyes. Howard simply watched.

"It's ok, little man."

"No, it's not Howard. I'm being a right twat to you." This time he met Howard's gaze. Howard smiled, encouragingly.  
"No, it's fine. Everything will sort itself out. You'll see."

"Thanks Howard." Vince muttered, leaning against him, eyes once again turned to peer out at the sun peeking over the landscape of sloping tiles and cement.

"We should do this again, yeah?" he whispered into Howard's chest. Howard smiled, his chest swelling with affection.

"Fine with me Little Man."


	5. The Break Up and the Break Down

AN: Here we go, Chapter 5. This is where i (hope) it starts to get _really _sad. The next chapter shall feature naboo, and shall envelope his side of the story, so this is where things will finally fit together. Chapter seven i think is where i finally reveal what happens to Vince, so keep an eye out. XD

Thanks for your reviews, the response to the old lady was fabulous, but she doesnt know anything, sorry to disappoint. I just had the idea and i think Howard needed someone to reassure him the happiness goes on. Maybe i'll ressurect her later... somehow...

Anyway. Thanks for your lovely responces, keep them coming and ill keep the updates quick. This chappie is dedicated to my friend Vicky, cause she is my wifie and i love her XD.

Captain Jacq

Disclaimer: do i _need _to go through this again? _fine!_ i DONT own it. There. Happy?

**_Chapter 5_**

Howard frowned as a groan preceded Vince into the kitchen. The young man's hair was all over the place, wherever he'd passed out the night before wreaking havoc with last night's hair spray.

"Morning." Howard muttered, Vince grunted in reply. He was still fully clothed, rumpled from sleep. He stumbled to the fridge.

"Fuck – I got a blinder." Vince muttered, leaning on the door.

"Yeah, well maybe you shouldn't drink so much." Howard muttered darkly. Another night, another drunk Vince stumbling into the flat at three in the morning.

"Nah." Vince replied, with a small laugh.

"It's well genius, Howard."  
"It's no good for you."

"What would you know?" he snapped back, his unfocussed gaze settling on Howard with dark ferocity.

"Besides Howard, you can't handle nothing. I know _fish_ that could drink you under the table." He hiccuped and laughed. His mood changing like a cloud passing over the sun. Darkness one minute sunshine the next.

"Get it _fish._ They live in water. Ha!" Howard shook his head sadly.

"Go and sort out your hair, Vince." Howard sighed. How many times had he held Vince's hair back for him so he could puke? How many times had he stayed up to make sure his friend didn't choke in his sleep? How many times had Vince yelled at him in the last couple of weeks?

The exact number of times Vince went out.

Every single night.

With not a single thanks in return.  
"Oh fuck off Howard." Vince replied, rolling his eyes and returning to perusing the fridge.

"What the fuck happened to the yoghurt?" he yelled, making Howard jump.

"You ate it."  
"I bloody did not!"

"Yes you did, you spilt half of it all over the floor night before last and finished it yesterday. Remember?"  
"Whatever Howard." He muttered slamming the fridge closed.

"You should eat something."  
"Fuck off." Howard sighed. He'd never thought he'd become used to hearing that phrase directed at him so much. Especially not from Vince. Vince was the last person he'd ever thought would say that to him.

Especially not every day.

Howard sighed, frowning. Whatever had happened had happened fast. What had he done to make Vince hate him? Because hate him he must. It was only him that he yelled at. It was only him that Vince swore at. But even still, Howard was the only one who didn't hear Vince whimper during the times few and far between when the electro prince wasn't drunk.

It was Howard who missed the pain in Vince's eyes. Because even unbeknownst to Vince, Howard was the only person he wanted to keep it from.

"Look, Vince – we need to talk." Howard called, following Vince into the lounge room. Vince was seated on the couch, flicking through channels.

"Huh?"

"We need to talk." Howard repeated, taking the remote out of Vince's hand and turning the television off.

"Oi! I was watching that!"

"No – you weren't. Besides, this is much more important Vince! I can't stand it any more! You drinking every night! It's not good for you - and I can't stand looking after you any more!"

"Well then don't!" Vince yelled back jumping to his feet.

"You know I can't do that! Vince it's not good for _y__ou!_ I want to help but you won't let me! You've just kept pushing me further and further away! We're supposed to be a team. You and me!"  
"It's not about you and me Howard! It's not about you! Not everything is about you, Howard! Fuck – I do have a life of my own outside of this dingy little shit heap. Outside of you!"  
"Wow there Sir. Steady on, you think I don't?"  
"No, Howard I don't think you do! – All you got is Lester Corncrake and that stupid jazzercise group and they'll be dead in the next two to five years! I got a life out there, I can make it! But every bloody day I come back here for you, Howard. You. I've given up so much for you! And you're so fucking ignorant about it. _I'm a man of action_ – you're nothing Howard, and you drag me down with you! I don't know why I bother! So I don't think you should bother yourself worrying about me and everything I do! I'm fine Howard! _Fine!_ I know what I'm doing! I'm trying to make something out of myself! But I still come back here for you! So don't go on about how you're giving stuff up for me, Howard! Cause you've given up _nothing_ for me! I've wasted _everything_ for you!" Howard stared; Vince's eyes were harsh and icy. Staring at him without a hint of warmth. Howard stepped backwards. Feeling Vince's words like a blow to his chest.

"Well if that's how you feel, Vince, then I'll get out of your way. I'll leave you to your stardom." He muttered softly. All the strength he had before utterly spent. Vince was heaving, but all Howard wanted to do was disappear. Shrink in on himself and forget everything that had happened since they'd left the zoo.  
"Yeah, you do that." Vince scowled, stalking off again. The pained crinkle in his eyes that Howard always managed to miss evident in his blue gaze. Howard stared after him. Vince hated him. He hated him, because he, Howard Moon, kept him back. Stopped him from catching the stars. His father always said it was difficult to reach for the stars when someone had you by the ankles.

Howard turned away, struggling with the effort not to cry.

"_I've given up so much for you!"_

Vince hated him. He had to let go. He had to do the right thing by Vince. Vince after all didn't want to walk the earth with Howard anymore. That much was evident, Vince was sick of him. Howard once again forced back the urge to cry. He couldn't let himself. He had to do this, for Vince.

"_You're nothing Howard!"_

Stumbling to his room Howard pulled out the suitcase under his bed. It had been years since he'd needed this. He'd hoped he'd never need it again. But then again, hopes and dreams were generally there for being crushed.

Howard stopped for a moment, turning around to survey his room. It certainly wasn't as bright and lively as Vince's. In fact, his room was the odd one out in the flat. It wouldn't be anymore though. Naboo could rent it out to someone brighter. Better.

Howard sighed, turning to his cupboard and began the task of removing his life from Vince's.

It was after all the best thing he could do for Vince after he'd taken so much.

Everything went in. Clothes, books, photos, records - the lot.

He emptied his life from Vince's and leaving a scribbled note for Naboo, trundled out of the flat. He didn't know where he was going, but all he knew was that he was getting there fast. If Howard had glanced back, just once. If he hadn't been sure he'd lose his courage, if he hadn't been sure there would be nothing there, he would have seen a dark shape at the window, tears rolling down eyes now clear from pain.

"I'm sorry Howard." Vince muttered, but like every time Vince uttered those words Howard didn't hear him.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

I stared up at the shop. My stomach felt strangely empty. As though it was no longer there. I'm terrified. It's been a while since I've admitted that to myself. Two years of escaping madmen with eel obsessions and over protective Shaman's with the inability to handle drugs. I've grown used to normal. But looking at the shop is anything but normal. It's not really a shop anymore. There's nothing in the window. The glass is covered with newspaper and there's only a faint light between the badly taped paper.

"_Check this out, Howard. These are genius."_

"_Vince that is the strangest t shirt I have ever seen."_

"_Yeah, but you don't understand fashion Howard."  
"Does Naboo know you're selling this stuff?"  
"Yeah, he thinks its well cool. Naboo appreciates colours, Howard. Not like you."_

"_I do Sir. I appreciate the power of muffin and nutmeg."  
"Yeah but muffin and nutmeg aren't colours Howard. They're food."_

The lump in my throat grows. The shop's so bland. The colours worn and faded. It's almost like the shop died with Vince.

_Vince._

I've been standing in the same position for fifteen minutes. Ever since I got off the bus. I can't help it. The chokes, that must be it. But I know it's not. I'm not apprehensive about being seen. I'm terrified. Terrified of it all coming back. I'm terrified of being blamed.

_He should have focussed on himself…_

The letters keep resounding in my head. Over and over and over.

_He deserved better._

That's why I left. He deserved to shine. I _wanted_ him to shine. But he hadn't. He'd faded. Disappeared.

Died.

And I could have stopped it.

"_Every__ bloody day I come back here for you, Howard. You. I've given up so much for you!"_

My heart was pounding in my head like before. Overbearing against the bustle of the street.

Boom.

"_I'm in love with someone else."_

"_The backtracking of a cowardly worm…"_

"_I'm in love with Howard!"_

Boom.

"_Hang on there little man, it'll be alright."_

"_Is it?__"_

"_Not really. We're going to be frozen__ in the most horrific way possible."_

Boom.

I straighten my coat. Pushing my fear to the back of my head. We hadn't died back then, but I had to repay him for what I'd done. For allowing him to die in a way far more horrible than the quick painless freeze of the Black Frost. I had abandoned him to die in the most horrific way possible.

Slow and horribly alone.

Boom.

The sound of Vince's scared tiny voice haunted me as I stepped forward and opened the door.

"_Howard, __I don't want to die…"_


	6. Listening

**_AN: well well well here we go, chapter six, i am overly impressed with myself here. Usually it would take me months to get this far, but i think the quick updates are simply an excuse not to study. Anyway, i'm glad you're all still liking this, it's spurring me on! Anyway, Howard's finally reached the shop, so i think it's time to introduce Naboo to this mix. I'm not too happy with his characterisation. He's pretty AU, i think anyway. But he plays the part i want him to, so there's no arguing from him. I've tied him up and he speaks like a puppet. Anyway, this chappie is dedicated to everyone who's reviewed. you make my day! I was SOOOOO close to telling you what happened in this chapter, but i decided not to. I personally think it was rather cheeky of me. But hey, ill tell you next time, okay? Hope this is still worth the posting._**

**_Captain Jacq_**

**_Disclaimer: i'm far too emotionally imbalanced to be male, and far too insecure to be brilliant. So there._**

**Chapter Six**

Naboo looked up, the bell resounding again. It had been weeks since he'd heard that bell. Saboo turned around.

"Who is this berk?" Tony Harrison voiced,

"Naboo." Howard muttered, his small eyes contracting so much into them. Naboo couldn't help but stare. It had been two years since he'd seen Howard, and it almost seemed as though Howard had reversed in time. He seemed younger in his body – but his eyes were so much older. As though he had seen too much.

"What do you want?" he asked, amazed at how much hostility he managed to contract into his voice. It was startling how easily the anger came to him again. He hadn't felt it for so long, but it came back in a rush as he looked at him. Howard.

"I need to talk to you."  
"Why?"

"I – I got your letter." He stuttered, looking away.  
"So? I told you the fifth, you berk. It's the third."

"I, I got _both_ your letters." He stared at Howard. Howard looked up. Naboo shocked himself, meeting Howard's pleading gaze. _Both?_

"You didn't read the first one when you got it?"  
Howard shook his head. At least he had the decency to look ashamed. No, that wasn't the look. Utterly broken. That was closer. Howard was at odds with himself. Naboo bit his tongue, restraining himself from yelling at the northerner to get out. His mistake had cost Vince his life. Why should he forgive him?

The answer floated into his head lightly, but the destruction it created was certainly nothing light.  
He had to forgive Howard because Vince had. It was as simple as that.

"I read it this morning. Tell me how, Naboo. Please. How? I don't understand!"

Naboo remained where he was.

"What's this geeza talking about Naboo?" Tony drawled.

"Yes, do explain Naboo." Saboo added.

"Please tell me." Howard repeated and all Naboo could do was stare. All he could feel was resentment towards the tall man in front of him. Howard's moustache bristled nervously. Vince used to laugh at that. Naboo's frown deepened.

This was who had cost Vince his life.

"Come upstairs."

"Oi! Naboo, what'd ya think you're doing! We 'ave business to attend to!" Tony screeched. Naboo rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, we'll do it later. I got stuff I have to do." He replied impassively

"Dennis will be hearing about this Naboo."  
"Go boil ya head, Saboo." Naboo frowned,

"Follow me." He said to Howard, heading up stairs - knowing full well that Howard will follow and that Saboo would get rid of himself and Harrison without much fuss. Naboo was silent, the image of Vince curled up in a ball ingrained in his eyes.

"_It came back again, didn't it? The letter."_

"_Yeah."_

"_Why wont he listen?"_

"_I don't know, Vince. I just don't know."_

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"You have to tell him, Vince."  
"No. He hates me. He should hate me. I said terrible things to him Naboo. Horrible things. I don't deserve to see him again."  
"Vince, this is serious. He'd want to know."

"No, Naboo." Vince replied, curled up on the couch, hugging his knees tightly.

He was dying. The thought kept rolling around in Naboo's head. Vince was dying.

"_I'm sorry, Mr Noir. There's nothing we can do."_

"Vince – "

"No."

"He'll understand."  
"No, I don't deserve it."  
"He'd want to know."

"No."  
"Vince, this isn't something light that you can ignore. You miss him, and I'm sure he misses you."  
"Doesn't matter."

"It does matter."  
Vince remained silent.

"Vince, tell him. It's, it's not worth it."

Naboo shifted uncomfortably. They'd reached it. Vince was dying. Vince was dying and Howard wasn't there. Howard didn't know. There was no escaping this, but they hadn't said anything more about it since the hospital. They hadn't acknowledged it out loud and Naboo didn't want to be the first to do it. For some reason he wanted to shield Vince from it. But he knew the main reason was the fear he had for the topic itself. He didn't want to have to admit it himself, and if they didn't talk about it then it wouldn't be real. But the fact remained, Vince was dying and the only person who could possibly make it easier was Howard. But Vince was stubbornly punishing himself. He'd pushed Howard away. They'd let it get too far, Howard had left and now they knew.

They knew Vince's time was ending. But Howard didn't.

Howard needed to know, if only for the fact it was the right thing to do. Simply courtesy one could say. But the truth was, Vince _needed_ Howard.

Whether he would admit it or not.

_That _was why Howard needed to know.

If Vince was to have any chance of survival, he needed Howard.

But Howard didn't want to be found, and Vince didn't want to be forgiven.

"I don't care."  
"Vince you do care. Why else would you be like this?" Naboo muttered, the words coming easily to his lips.  
"Like what?" he mumbled,

"Vince you've barely left the window. You need to do something. It's not healthy."  
"That doesn't matter, does it?"

Naboo fell silent. It was a helpless battle and it seemed he had to finally accept that.

"Vince -"  
"No, Naboo. Just leave me alone." The tiny Shaman sighed and turned away, leaving Vince once more, alone at the window. Watching the sky.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

I was slightly shocked when I came up the stairs. Last time I had been here the room had been cluttered, yes, but it had been a fun clutter. Bright, bubbly – memorable. Now, now the flat was a mess, dust seemed to have accumulated in every space and the contents seemed worn and _old, _even though most of the items were the same as when I was still here. I shifted uncomfortably. Naboo turned around to face me. He was so blasé about the state of the flat. There're boxes stacked in corners now, amongst the old clutter. Objects from the shop I suppose. The things they managed to save from the fire. I only vaguely remember that. It had been a tiny article tucked away in the paper and I'd been too scared to read it. It would have brought up too much. But maybe I would have known sooner if I'd been bothered to read it.

"So." I say, nervously filling the silence. But it's only to stop Naboo looking at me the way he is. His stare is so blank; I can't help but wonder what's going through his head as he looks at me. Hatred wouldn't be far off the mark I suppose. I'm pretty sure I recognised something along those lines back in the shop. A glint in his eyes he didn't manage to mask. I move my feet, I'm as nervous as all hell. A train could go through the flat and it wouldn't create as much chaos as how I feel right now. It wouldn't cause as much damage as I think I did the moment I walked out of this flat.

"_I think I could stay here forever. What about you Howard?"  
"No,Sir. Not me."_

"_Why not? This flat's well genius. You me Naboo and Bollo. We could all stay here for ages. It'd be brilliant."_

"_It's not right for one man to stay in a single place for a long time, Vince."  
"Nah that's not right Howard. Else you would have stayed in Leeds."  
"That's what I'm trying to say Vince, for a man such as me you have to keep moving. It's not right to stay in the one place too long. I'm a traveller. Yes Sir. Moving from place to place with my creative genius."  
"Like a gypsy?"  
"Well, not quite…"  
"You couldn't be a gypsy Howard – they wear earrings and bright colours and stuff. You don't do anything like that."_

"_What I'm trying to say Vince is that one day, I will move on from here. From this place. You will too."  
"Nah – I like it here, Howard. I'm gonna stay here forever."  
"Yes, but Vince you said that about the zoo as well, didn't you?"_

"_That was a test run, Howard. 'sides the zoo wasn't my fault."  
"A lot of things aren't your fault, but they happen."_

Right now, as I'm staring at Naboo all I can do is hold onto that wisdom. All I can do is hope that this, this wasn't my fault. That everything that happened to us, our friendship - me, Naboo, Bollo and _Vince – _wasn't my fault. All I can do is hope. But somehow I think it's futile.

"Naboo – please. What happened?"

Naboo remains impassive. Why won't he move? Why won't he say _anything?_

"You're such a ball bag Howard." He mutters, finally breaking the silence before disappearing into the kitchen.

"Cup of tea?  
"Tea?" I croak. I know I'm looking at him oddly. But it's such an odd question. The tension's gone. Replaced by something… odd. I can't place it. But it's there, settling around the lump in my throat and beginning to do something that feels strangely like dissolving it.

"_Tea fixes everything Howard. Thought you knew that."_

"_Vince, what can a pot of tea do to fix this mess we're in?"_

"_Can't hurt, can it?"_

"This may take a while Howard. It's a long story." I still watch the tiny shaman as he works. A long story. _His_ story.

_Things might have been different if you'd just listened…_

"I know." I reply staring at Naboo, trying to tell him.

_I'm listening now._

He looks at me. His stare saying one thing.

_Too late._


	7. Unseen Decay

**_I"m sorry for the long wait, but this is the big chapter i promised, and it just wouldn't come. i had quite a few scenes that i wanted to put in here, but wouldn't fit :( and then i got reeeeally busy all at once, i had yr 12 weirdathon (a funraiser) that we had to organise, then perform, day after i had my valedictory assembly (2 major awards WIN!!) then my formal, then my friends 18th excetera excetera, i could go on, but i wont. So here is chapter seven - the revealer. This is no where near the end chapter. i have about at least four to go, i think. something like that. This chappie is for all the people who knew Vince was ill before hand, good work! :) Anyway, i'm not happy with this chapter. it just doesn't seem right to me, but i think thats just the pressure from you guys!! i hope you 'enjoy' it and that it's up to scratch. I wont say anymore, except its painfully obvious Naboo is AU now - i just can't write him and i dont think he'd react like this in the same situation - but my mind requires it. SO GET IN LINE SHAMAN! _**

**_The situation in this story is not something i have experienced, so i hope i dont offend anyone or romanticise it in any way - i'm not trying to. I commend everyone on your strength to survive this. It's probably not something i could do._**

**_Disclaimer: it's chapters like these that make Noel adn Julian the real creators, because if you're going to make an entire universe then horrible events like this only happen on the sets of Neighbours or Home and Away. (can you tell im Aussie now?)_**

I watched as Naboo took his cup in both hands, clenching it tightly and making his way over to the table. My own cup, the old one I left here two years ago featuring a saxophone on the side was still by the kettle. Taking it I followed Naboo. The tiny shaman was seated at the table, eyes staring out into space, his mind a million miles away.

"Where's Bollo?" I ask, nervously taking my seat. His hands still haven't moved from clenching his cup.

"In the loft - he likes space these days."

I nod. It's difficult choosing what to say. I don't know whether he'll start talking on his own, or whether I should ask. He's still silent. I can't stand it. My skin is practically itching and the lump in my throat is getting painful again.

I clear my throat.

"You sure you want to hear this, Howard?" he asks all of a sudden. Peering up at me through an overgrown fringe he never had. It's only now I notice the lopsided turban and splattering of unshaven fuzz around his newly grown moustache. It's an odd look, not one I though Naboo would take on. It intrigues me a bit, but I'm not sure and I wouldn't dare admit it out loud. But it would almost seem as though he'd tried to look like _me._ I bat the thought away, it's probably something new, and surely he wouldn't have done it for Vince. Surely. But the state of the flat warns me of a continual state of decay. Things have been like this for a long while.

"Yeah." I reply, silently meeting his gaze for a moment.

"I need to."

"Fine." Naboo sighs, defeated. He takes a long drink out of his cup, before returning the hot china to his hands. They're red from the heat. I stare, all of a sudden I'm overly anxious and don't want to meet his eye.

"Just tell me, did he suffer?" I whisper. Carefully glancing up.

"Tell me he didn't."  
Naboo's silent for a long while. The courage he's built up seems to have come to a stand still, the same as mine.

"I, I – no." Naboo replied back. "He didn't." but there's something there that tells me he's lying. All the same I thank him.

"What was it?"

"It wasn't something we all noticed." Naboo said, starting off small. His confidence building. Or maybe it wasn't confidence, but he was releasing his own pain. Letting the untold story free.

"It started small, little things that didn't make sense. He started getting tired easier. He'd forget things…"

_"For your birthday, Howard."_

"_My birthday? Vince, my birthdays not till tomorrow."_

_Vince's face fell._

"_Oh, well I guess I was so caught up in it all I got a little too excited."_

Memories started to erupt inside me. Flashes I'd passed over. Things too trivial or too – _Vince_ for me to take notice and do something. Tiny things.

"_I think I forgot to put the sugar in -"_

How could I have missed them? Why on earth would Vince of all people forget to put sugar in pancakes? Naboo continued, ignoring my gaze by now. I guess it's easier to focus when he doesn't have to look me in the face. Look at the person who could have saved Vince in the eye and tell him exactly how he killed a friend. My respect for the tiny shaman grew.

" He'd lose his balance and coordination. He was so damn good at hiding things. Took everything in his stride. If he wasn't like a damn peacock about everything all the time, it might have been more obvious."

"_Vince what was that?"  
"Sorry Howard, I dropped the cup."_

"_That's the third one this week!"_

"_Yeah? Well I'm practicing. Check this out, Howard!" he giggled weaving two fingers intricately through the handle of a cup off the drainer and tried to drink the air._

"_Leroy showed me, its well genius …"_

"…Small things. You know? It was only until the big things started that I noticed. By then it was too late. The changes in personality – yelling at you. But it was the head aches that did it. The headaches were what told me something was wrong. I was surprised at you, Howard. You didn't notice at all."

I look away, Vince's voice echoing in my head. I was so damn absorbed in my own worries I forgot to look at Vince for the problem. Instead I'd been looking in at myself and missed it completely. I'd let him blind me.

"_What's wrong little man?"  
"Nothing, just a headache."_

"_You've been having those a lot lately."  
"Come off it Howard, it's just a headache."_

"I – I asked him about them. He brushed me off." I whispered. The images flashing back. He'd been wearing his punk jacket again that day. He hadn't worn that in ages, but it seemed that by then the colours had drained away. Faded out.

"_What happened to the colours, little man? Thought you weren't into Punk any more."  
" I'm not – punk's long out. But oh, I dunno. I just like it. It feels like it suits – you know?"_

"You never said anything."  
"They seemed to stop." I replied. But that wasn't right – they hadn't stopped. They'd simply taken another form. I'd _let_ them take another form, I'd let them fade out into unimportance.  
"No, that's when, that's when he started going out every night." I mumble. I know Naboo's looking at me. Staring, taking everything in. I ignore him though. I let him. I'm too far off. That part of Vince's behaviour had always seemed to fit into my own warped jigsaw. I'd never thought it was a piece to a different puzzle. But then that had been my mistake; I'd been looking the wrong way.

"He used the hangover to hide the headache." Naboo whispered. "That's why he went out every night."

"_This feels so good, Howr'd – so good, don' hurt 'nyore."_

"_Vince you're drunk!"_

"_Yup! – absolut'ly waaasted, an' its goood."_

"What was it?" I ask again, this time Naboo answers.

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Perched in the corner of the room, Naboo sat hidden amongst the oversized couches and extreme colours. It had always been easy to blend in to the background Vince created to survive in. But it was harder these days - changing. Everything was changing, ever since Howard left.

But that wasn't completely right; things had been changing long before then. The screaming matches and sulking was testimony to that. Things had been wrong, he'd felt it. Like the air had taken on a taste to it. Something metallic that made you wince as you felt it cross your tongue. Feel it go down each time you breathed. It was the state of emotional decay that had made everything wilt along with it. Even the flat, and now, now when Howard was no longer here, the flat felt it too. It was an odd feeling, likening the flat to something alive. Something that could breathe and feel. But that was what it was. In his head, the flat had always been alive – a part of their lives. Setting the backdrop to wild adventures. Only now, when they changed the flat changed too. The walls groaned in the night, almost a sad song in its soft creaks, a backdrop to the small cries Vince never really managed to hide. Moments when he'd crawl into a ball, clutching his head to his hands and moan until whatever it was released its hold over him. Nothing worked to relieve it. Nothing but time. Bollo had taken to watching over the electro poof whenever it happened, leaving Naboo to listen to the house's lament. A song that continued long after Vince's cries of pain disappeared and Bollo returned. Naboo was sure that he was the only one who heard it. The only one who noticed the gradual state of decay that was taking over not only Vince - his appearance and effort diminishing daily – but the flat as well. The paint fading, the artworks plain against their backdrops and the cushions fraying. Howard was a berk, but even still – he was vital to their life. An important part of the ecosystem. Vince was the decoration – the flowers and birds, and it was impossible for the flowers to exist without the base foliage. It was proving impossible for Vince to properly function without Howard, and all the while Naboo watched on. Getting more and more nervous as the days progressed and Vince and the flat continued to degrade.

"Cup of tea, Naboo?" Vince grinned, the fake smile plastered over his pale face. He thought no one noticed how fake it was, and no one really did – except him, Naboo. The light in Vince's eyes fading, as though the coal had finally run out and it was running on wood. Wood that only made everything smoke and the world turned hazy. It was only half nine but already Vince's face shone as though he'd run a mile – when in truth the straighteners weren't even cool yet, not that it appeared they'd been used at all. It had happened before.

"_Vince how many times do I have to tell you to turn the straighteners off! You'll burn the place to the ground!"  
"I do turn em off, Naboo!"_

"_No you bloody didn't, they were sitting there bright as bloody day! And you haven't even used them!"_

"_Yes I have!"_

"_No, you haven't." Naboo sighed, glancing at Vince's hair, clearly unstraightened, but Vince remained adamant. He _had_ straightened them. Straightened them and turned them off. On the outside Naboo looked angry. On the inside he was anxious. Vince glowered, stalking off and despite the fact it was obvious his hair was unstraightened, he left it as it was._

Five times now, five days when the straighteners weren't used, three times where they'd never been turned on at all. Each time with Vince adamant he'd used them. The times were mounting. The worry increasing, and no matter what he said Vince wouldn't agree to anything. Wouldn't agree to go to the hospital, wouldn't admit anything was wrong. Wouldn't admit anything.

"Yeah, that'd be great." He called to Vince's retreating back.

Vince wasn't going out anymore. Two weeks since Howard had disappeared, and Vince hadn't been out in almost four days – the drinking no longer doing what it used to. The headaches making the vodka immune. Things were getting worse, but nothing could be done. Not even Bollo or Leroy could get him to admit to anything. As far as Vince was concerned he wasn't ill – there wasn't anything wrong, even though there obviously was. For Naboo it was a matter of figuring out just _how_ ill Vince was. In a way, his prayers were answered. But then again, when does one pray to find out how your friend is dying?

"Got anything on, today?" he called out to Vince. The crashes echoing from the kitchen announcing each step Vince made in making the tea.

"Nah – Leroy's gotta work, so I was just gonna go shopping. TopShop's got new stock in. What about you?"

"No." Naboo replied, listening as Vince replaced the sugar in the cupboard, heels clicking on the lino as he moved. There was a pause and then a crash echoed around the flat. Naboo sat bolt upright as a second crash bounced around the walls and the sound of something relatively large met the floor.

"Vince!?" Naboo called, running into the kitchen, any precedence he had went out the window upon seeing Vince splayed out on the ground amongst the remnants of the two tea cups. The carnage extending from the bench to halfway across the room.

"Vince?" Naboo lisped, rolling Vince over. A cut stretched from the left side of his forehead down just below his eye, blood seeping over the pale skin. His eyelids were drooping over an out of focus gaze. A bruise was already beginning to appear on his prominent cheekbone.

"Vince?" Naboo asked again, shaking him a little.

"H'wrd?" Vince slurred, eyes flickering

Naboo paused,

"N'boo." Vince muttered before he could answer. He breathed a small sigh of relief. Vince still wanted Howard. That was a relief in itself. But posed another problem. But one that could be answered later.

"Yeah, Vince." He muttered, trying to help Vince slightly vertical. Vince groaned as Naboo moved him. Naboo stopped.

"S'ry – wen' d'rk – all dark." Vince mumbled. "Fell,"

"It's alright, Vince. But we need to get you to hospital."  
"No." Vince muttered, trying to push himself to his feet, failing and collapsing back against the floor utterly spent and even more limp than before. Naboo frowned, his eyes never leaving Vince's blank gaze. He kept trying to hide it. Naboo still wasn't sure who he was hiding it from, him? Bollo? – Surely not Howard, not anymore. He'd driven Howard away. No, Naboo mused. Vince was trying to hide it from himself. Nothing was wrong if you maintained the right attitude, right?

"Bollo get carpet." Bollo muttered, Naboo jumped at the sound of his familiar's voice.

"Hurry Bollo."

"No." Vince whispered, eyes half closed.

"Vince, you need stitches at the very least – otherwise it'll scar." He muttered, appeasing the vain side of Vince's personality. Manipulating him. But he had to, he couldn't afford to let Vince have his stubborn way anymore. It was painfully obvious something was wrong. He'd seen it for a while, getting Vince to admit it was another problem. But something had to be done. Vince was in trouble. That much was obvious.

He had to know, it was only then that they could set about fixing it. Fixing Vince, and then fixing Vince and Howard.

Then maybe the flat would stop its lament, and then, maybe, Naboo could get to sleep.

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"What was it?" Howard asks again, this time Naboo chose to answer.

"He was dying, and even when we knew what it was, he wouldn't do a thing."

"_I'm sorry Mr Noir…"_

Howard opened his mouth to speak again, Naboo sighed, cutting him off before he had the chance.

"It was a tumour." He said sourly. "Vince had a brain tumour."


	8. Faith

_**AN: here we go, chapter eight. I think there may be three more after this. It may get a little confusing, but i'll clarify later. (hopefully it wont need it) this chapter is where everyone's claims of Naboo should have gone to visit come into effect. It was hard for me not to reply to everyone's 'why didn't he find Howard?' cause i already had this planned. So, you didn't fall on deaf ears! I'm glad a couple of you diagnosed Vince before i revealed. though i thought i'd have a few more yelling 'I KNEW IT' even though no one told me they'd already known! lol. I did hope i was slightly sneaky with my hints. These paragraphs are really short, but they work with how i'm telling it. This is after all happening in just one day. So, i'm breaking his 'talk' with Naboo down into segments. I hope you're all still enjoying it, but you only have to put up with me for another three chapters i think and then i may have my first completed story! hopefully... And i'll try to finish over the next couple of days. XD thanks for reading!**_

_Disclaimer: here we go again, ANOTHER lawsuit?! Jeez, if they're not gonna sue the Honeymonster, why would they sue me? ME of all people? Though, i would settle for some direct Noel adn Julian backlib. ;-)_

_Howard opened his mouth to speak again, Naboo sighed, cutting him off before he had the chance_

_Howard opened his mouth to speak again, Naboo sighed, cutting him off before he had the chance._

_"It was a tumour." He said sourly. "Vince had a brain tumour."_

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Howard stared, opened eyed. Naboo felt a sudden wave of pity rush through him. A wave he quickly suppressed. No. He couldn't let it overcome him. It was Howard's fault.

"Where? How?" Howard whispered. Naboo knew he'd suppressed the last one. _Why?_

"Don't know how. It was, it was in his temporal lobe– it was just, if they'd gotten it earlier it still wouldn't have helped. It was just, just…"  
_"In the wrong spot, I'm afraid. The primary way of defeating this type of tumour is to operate – but there's an incredible risk in that alone in any case. But I'm afraid in Vince's case – it's impossible."_

"_How is it impossible?"_

"_I'm sorry it's simply in an extremely difficult position. It's located deep within the brain, and even with the size it is, there's no chance of removing it."_

"Just – everything was just wrong. It was just too, too deep." Naboo fell silent, once again watching Howard. The northerner sat holding his cup. Staring at it morosely. It was hard for him, but how hard was it for Howard? How difficult would it be to find out two years later that your friend had a fatal disease? Find out a year after that they'd died and that you, you could have helped? Naboo looked away. He couldn't do it. Couldn't allow himself to pity the man in front of him. Not when he'd seen what had happened. The blame was proving difficult to maintain.

"Why didn't you help him?" Howard suddenly asked, looking up.

"What?"

"If they couldn't remove it, then what about Chemo or radiation therapy? There had to be _something! _You should have told him – you should have made him go, they, they might have helped – if you'd tried - "  
"I did. Howard, I tried to get him to go. But they wouldn't have worked. "

"You're a shaman, if they couldn't do anything, why didn't you? What about the potions? The – what about the Council? Couldn't they have helped? Why didn't you try? You should have been able to – you should have done something!" Howard's voice had reached an emotional pitch, as though suppressing tears but all the same Naboo's eyes narrowed, the anger bubbling out from under his carefully contained shield. Howard blinked as he saw the change. Naboo knew he should keep it in. Try and push it back. But he couldn't. Self control be damned.  
"You were his friend! You should have listened to him! He wrote to you, Howard! Every week! – For a _year!_ A whole _year, _Howard!"

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"It's come back again, hasn't it?" Naboo looked up, Vince's blue eyes crinkled in pain. Emotional pain. The hurt extended a lot further than his head. Another pin through the young man's heart.

"Yeah." Naboo muttered, sliding the unopened envelope into the drawer with the others.

"He'll listen, one day." Vince muttered, resolutely. Naboo bit his lip, watching Vince disappear back into his room.

"I hope so." He muttered after him. If Howard didn't listen soon, Vince would never get better. Never leave the house. Naboo looked from the closed door to the stairs. He had to do something. He had to.

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"You should have come and got me. You should have – " I bite my tongue. I want to blame him. There's just nothing else to do. Blame the only one who was there for him. For Vince. Blame Naboo so I don't blame myself. I don't want to feel that weight. The weight Naboo's trying to shift on me. I deserve to feel it though. The weight of the world on my shoulders. But I'm human, I'm weak – I just want to cry or scream or disappear. But I can't. I want to – desperately. But I can't. All I can do is grieve and all I want to do is blame Naboo. I want to – oh how I want to. He was the only one there. The one who helped Vince. I want to blame him, but I can't. Everything he says is true. I'd had a year to know.

"I did, Howard." Naboo spat back. He was on his feet. His eyes flaming.

"I went against what Vince told me. I broke my promise, Howard! I lied to him when I looked for you. I came to get you – against what I promised him, I came so many times! You weren't there! I left notes! – You never replied! I asked to see you, you didn't want to talk! Every damn time, Howard!"

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"Is Howard here?"

"No, he's gone out."

"Oh, well if you could give him this. Tell him Naboo came around." Naboo replied, pulling out the letter. He didn't want to have to do this. But it seemed this would be the only way he could contact Howard.

"Sure." The blonde girl smiled, taking the letter. Naboo exhaled.

"Good, thanks." It was only now, after Vince died, that Naboo wished he'd waited. Stayed just five minutes waiting for Howard instead of giving that girl a hastily scrawled letter:

_Howard, Vince is sick – it's bad. We need to talk. He needs to see you. Call me._

_Naboo._

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"You did?"  
"Yeah! The girl! I left a note; the girl said she'd give it to you. I called, you never answered!"  
" She said she'd give it to me?"

"Yeah, a blonde girl."  
"I know! Er, I know, who you mean. – I, I never got it." He muttered, looking away. Naboo seethed. Letting out a long breath.

He frowned. He should have known. He should have had more faith in Howard. If he had known, Naboo was sure Howard would have come running. Exactly like he had this morning. Naboo looked away from Howard's blank stare. He could almost feel the hatred rising from him. He should pity the girl, but he couldn't; it simply wasn't possible when he could almost see her disposing of the note as he walked back down the path.

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I bit my tongue. Holding back the anger. The sheer – _fury_ bubbling inside me. How could she? Her green eyes stared back at me. How many times had she done it?

"_Who was that?" he asked as she returned, turning away from the tv. Dr Who running up some half deserted corridor with about ten aliens in hot pursuit. _

"_No one. Some poor guy looking for his dog. Sad really." She sighed, falling back into the beside him. "So what's happened?"_

"_It's a dvd, Hanna – you've seen every episode."_

"_Shut it Howard…"_

The lump in my throat returns as her voice echoes something Vince once said.

"_You know you can get somefing new out of a show each time you watch it, Howard. Little things – half the fun's finding them."_

It was the little things I'd missed. The little things that would have mattered. How many times ahd Naboo come around? How many times had Hanna pushed him away? How many times had I been oblivious to it? My fingers feel hot, and I'm not sure if it's the tea anymore or the burning desire to find Hanna and – I stop myself before I complete the image in my head. Surely she'd been trying to help. Protect me, even. It had after all been Hanna who'd helped me find my feet after I left. Was what she'd done her way of helping me? Tears are trying to prickle at my eyes again. Trying to escape, but they still wont. Something still wont let me. My tears are for Vince – and Vince alone.

"He didn't want my help Howard." Naboo's voice is small, and there's no presence to it. Its just a statement of fact. Something he didn't want to admit – to himself or out loud. Vince hadn't wanted Naboo's help, and Naboo hated it.

"I know."  
"He wanted you."

"I know."

There was silence for a moment.

"Tell me you tried, Naboo, please." I whisper. Please – tell me you tried.

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"What Naboo doing?" Bollo asked, watching as Naboo added another two drops of the violet liquid to Vince's tea.

"Helping Vince." Naboo replied, the gorilla looked from the bottle to the tea to the shaman again.

"How this help Precious Vince?"

"He won't let anyone else help him – so I'll do it without him knowing."

Bollo nodded.

"Vince want Howard." He said.

"I know. But Howard wont listen."  
"Bollo find Howard."  
"No – you can't, Bollo. We can't interfere with this. Vince said not to."  
"Vince not know what best."  
"No, he doesn't. But this time we can't interfere, Bollo. Best I can do is help him get past this tumour – he has to deal with Howard on his own." Naboo felt sick saying it. But the knowledge that Howard knew and didn't care rose in Naboo and he clenched the cup harder than necessary, the heat burning him through the mug.

"_Look I need to speak to him."  
"He doesn't want to talk to you. He doesn't want to go back to that."  
"Look, Vince needs to speak to him. It's urgent – he's really ill. He's dy – "_

"_I'm sorry but he just doesn't want to bring it all up again." she muttered, cutting him off.  
"Look, let me hear Howard say it to my face."  
"He doesn't want to speak to you."_

The heat was a comfortable weight as he took it out to where Vince was seated on the couch.

"Here." He smiled down at the electro poof. Vince made a vain attempt in return.

If Vince knew that Howard knew and didn't care all hope they had would vanish. It was a small hope in the returned unopened letters. A tiny hope that kept Vince alive. The hope that Howard didn't know. That maybe, just maybe the address was wrong and he never got them. Maybe.

"Thanks Naboo, you're a diamond." Vince said as he rose the cup to his lips. Naboo couldn't help but smile back as he watched the milky liquid disappear in the mug. If Vince wouldn't help himself without Howard, then Naboo would have to make up the losses.


	9. When the hope dies

**_AN: here we go, chapter nine. I know i told you there was three chapters to go, but in truth, i realised there's only two of the actual story. there's just not enough to break it over to three, i could do it. But it's not worth it. I will however include all the little pieces i've written that dont fit in this version, such as scenes from Vince's point of view, i wrote them and i was like 'i really like this! - oh yeah, i can't include it cause he's dead facepalm' - so they're there if you want them, just let me know. They'll only be an add on chapter so, just tell me what you think! This first bit i was really tempted to add on to the next chapter, and when i posted it without it i got all 'blaah' but i think it doesn't really matter. it goes up, so ... :D I hope this chapter's up to scratch, and i'm really excited about posting the next chapter, cause essentially it's the first i wrote XD - and it'll be the first fic i've finished XD HAPPEEEEEE! This bit with Vince i think is a little better explained from his POV - but it doesn't fit with this, so again, let me know what you think about posting the oddments :D_**

**_Anyway, i think all that's left to say is THANK YOU for all the reviews, i'm a review whore atm - i was holding off from posting this to see how many i could get :P - but even i couldn't withstand the wait, so i've done it. All thats' left to say now is that Julian and Noel own the Boosh and i thank them for it, and now i think it's on with the story XD_**

"Tell me you tried, Naboo, please." He whispered.

"There was nothing I could do. He wouldn't let me. He wouldn't let anyone. And even if he did, there was nothing – it would never have worked." He hated lying to Howard. But he had to. The truth would hurt him way beyond the grief.

Howard nodded sadly.

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"Well this is a change of pace." Naboo smiled the surprise of seeing Vince so cheerful was only ever something to be happy about.

"Yeah, I didn't have a headache all night. That's three days, Naboo." Vince grinned; he looked _healthier_ for lack of a better word. Less pale, steadier on his feet, and the missing pained crinkle in his eyes was like a rainbow after a storm. Naboo beamed. It was a wonder what a good night's sleep had done for the young man.

"What would you like to do?"

"I'm going out, Naboo. I want to go for a walk – get in the sunshine an all that. It's been aaages." He beamed,

"Want me to come? I can get Bollo – we can all go."

"Nah. I kinda want to be alone. You know? But thanks Naboo, you're a diamond."

Naboo wasn't about to knock back Vince, not when the young man hadn't been this chipper in months. With good reason. But he was nervous about letting him out on his own.

Never the less the smile on Vince's face could melt an ice cap.

So he let him, watching as Vince disappeared out the flat and down into the mingle of people below.

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"But why? Why wouldn't you help him? There must have been something. _Anything._" Howard muttered again, his voice barely a whisper as though he never meant for Naboo to hear him. Naboo's heart throbbed. It was as though Howard knew. But he couldn't. The truth was too much, almost too much for him. What would it do to Howard?  
"I tried, Howard – I tried to get him to go. I tried to convince him to get chemo or something. But it wouldn't have helped. It was just – there wasn't anything that would have worked. Not anything I could have done. There was only the hospital's way and Vince was just too proud – he wasn't going to lose his hair for something that wouldn't have worked. They told us it wouldn't. It was just too much for him, too much risk with not enough reward. There's only one person who he would have done it for."  
"Me." Howard choked. Naboo nodded, he hated doing it. Even though he hated Howard. Hated him for what he'd let Vince become. He couldn't destroy him. Couldn't tell him the truth.

"There was never really much chance, Howard. It was just fools chance."  
"I would have been fool enough for us all." Howard murmured.

Naboo couldn't help but agree.

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Vince was heaving by the time he'd reached the flat; his hands were grazed where he'd lost his balance twice on the way home. All he wanted to do was crawl into bed and never come out.

"Vince!" Naboo called, turning away from the stove to see him stumble into his room. The door slamming behind him before Naboo could reach it.

"Vince!" he called, the sound of Vince sobbing echoing through the wood.

"Vince! – Vince open the door!" He called, the sobbing continued. He tried again. Still Vince didn't reply, all he could hear was the creak of the wood as Vince leaned against it, and the muffled sobbing as the young man tried to stem his own crying. It didn't happen. He kept going.

"Vince, open the door – what happened?" but Naboo had a vague idea of what had caused Vince's deterioration. There was only one person that could have had this effect on him.

Howard.

"Vince tell me what's wrong!" he called. But still Vince didn't move or reply. Naboo sighed; he sat down on the floor by the crack in the door. Listening to Vince's muffled crying.

"Vince please." He called again, this time he heard movement. Vince was on his feet; he heard muffled footsteps that preceded a crash. Naboo jumped to his feet.

"Vince!" he called, anxiously through the door. He could still hear the little man crying, and a second thump echoed the crash.

"Vince?" he called again. Still no answer.

"Vince are you all right? Tell me what happened."

Nothing. Naboo sighed, there was still no answer. He couldn't do a thing, not while the door was locked and Bollo was out. The gorilla being the one strong enough to break the door. The one who could calm Vince down at his worst - in the middle of the night when the headaches were at their harshest and his whimpering more pronounced.

By the time Bollo returned, Naboo took no time in yelling at his familiar, but instead stopped his pacing and ordered Bollo to break the door. As the door swung open Naboo saw Vince splayed out on the ground, an array of paint bottles and hair spray cans scattered around him from where they'd fallen from the vanity cabinet. His hands were grazed and there were several cuts on his arms from where he'd fallen on the way back to the flat. Tears were still rolling down his cheeks and he was unnaturally pale. Had Naboo not seen the electro poof himself he never would have believed the young man had been smiling that morning.

"Oh Vince." Naboo muttered taking Vince by the shoulders. A familiar scene. How many times had this happened? How many more would it take?

"_H'wrd." Vince muttered, voice glazed over_

"_I'm sorry, Vince, he's not here."_

Vince stirred. His fingers were covered in pen ink and there was three pages covered in his childish scrawl scattered around the room.

Another letter to Howard.

"This time he'll listen, right Naboo?" Vince muttered his voice slow and guttural from too much crying. His words slightly slurred.

"Yeah, Vince - he will." Naboo sighed, recognising the familiar blank stare in Vince's gaze, the blank gaze that followed Vince's unconscious spells. How long had he been in here semi conscious? Semi conscious and alone. Naboo felt sick. He was getting the lock removed.

"He'll listen." Vince muttered again, eyes sliding further out of focus until they closed again.

"Put him in bed, Bollo." Naboo ordered his familiar as he bent down to retrieve Vince's letter.

_Dear Howard._

_I saw you today. You looked happy. Are you happy Howard? I hope you are. You looked it. I'm not. I miss you. I feel so sick all the time Howard. All the time. I wish you were here. You always made me feel better. But you were right to leave me. I was evil to you. I deserve this. But I wish you were here, Howard. I don't want to die. I'm so tired all the time. Why did you leave, Howard? Why won't you listen to me? I miss you. I don't want to die alone. You won't let me, will you? Please Howard. _

_I know I'm going to die though. You won't forgive me and I can't go on if I can't do it with you. I love you Howard. Why won't you listen to me? Why won't you come back?_

Naboo looked away from the letter. He couldn't read any further.

"_He doesn't want to speak to you…. He doesn't care."_

"_He'll listen, I know he will."_

"_I don't want to die alone…"_


	10. The End is only the Beginning

_**AN: Chapter ten, the last (real) chapter. I've decided i'll post the oddments anyway, just so you can see little parts of the story and you might be able to draw something else from them. I know this isn't so much as an ending in the sense of the word, but it's where i've always intended to end it. With hope and faith and all that jazz. Well that's how i interpret it, anyway. The main bit with Vince and Naboo is the first part i wrote for this fic and strangely enough it hasn't changed all that much since i first wrote it. I've done maybe fifty words max to it - including edits cause im a nonse! I hopoe you like it and that it's enough of a climax for the story - its almost made me cry a couple of times when i've read through, but that's just me and being emotional. I'm glad so many of you have liked this, i've enjoyed writing it. It's certainly given me a release from HSC stress. XD**_

_**I'm dedicating this to all of your for reviewing, Stars of Andromeda, SparkieSchteff, ButtonsMagoo, Chugirl2526, SwissTony, BeckyRocks -x , Shrink To Be, Perichan, Izzy-the-Skittle, MirkwoodMortal, SORRY IF I FORGOT YOU, TELL ME AND I'LL EDIT!!**_

_**Disclaimer: This fic is finished, Boosh is not - testimony enough for you?**_

**_Chapter 10_**

The bustle of the outside streets of London echoed into the silence of the flat. Naboo hated the silence. Hated it. Vince had never been one for silence either. When it had been the four of them there had never been silence. When four became three the quiet crept up on them. Snuck in through the cracks in the doors and windows. And then the noise had returned. The music came back with the smiles. He'd been getting better. There had been a chance. It was working, and then he saw _him_. Saw Howard and it all came undone. Everything that he, Naboo had tried to do – everything that he'd worked for disintegrated and Vince gave up. Vince gave up hope – the one thing keeping him alive, one thing promising the return of his old life fell apart in his hands. It fell apart and Vince didn't want to live any more. And it was Howard's fault.

And so the quiet had returned. Swept into the flat like smoke, descending on everything and making the entire world hazy. A year had passed and it still wasn't clear. The air still burned and the flat still echoed. Naboo's heart thumped painfully. He clutched at his mug again. It was cold now, just wasted milk and cold dregs. He hated the silence.

"What, what happe – how? How did he?" Howard muttered, finally, glancing up from his tea. He couldn't finish, but Naboo knew exactly what he meant.

He froze. He hadn't thought on it for months. It had taken months to forget, and now Howard would drag it all up again. And strangely enough Naboo let him. He let him and for the first time, he didn't care.

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Naboo sat bolt upright. Panic rifling through him, eyes still muted by sleep searching the fading darkness. He emitted a sigh of relief when his gaze finally settled on a pair perched by the window. Vince curled up on the window seat, a brightly coloured patchwork quilt over his knees, the sun slowly working a pale glow to his wan skin as it shifted in through the glass. Bollo lay at Vince's side, like a guard dog keeping watch until his eyes could no longer withstand it.

Straining against the ache in his bones from sleep, Naboo approached cautiously. Unsure whether Vince was asleep or not.

"Hey," Vince whispered, his lips barely moving. Never the less his voice echoed in the flat. Silent but for the soft sounds of his rising chest and the occasional snort from Bollo.

"Hey." Naboo replied, taking the seat closest to the window.

A comfortable silence descended, broken only by Vince shifting in the concave seat, his gaze never leaving the scene beyond the fogged glass.

"Naboo, do you think Heaven's like in the movies?" he whispered, suddenly.  
"What do you mean?" Naboo replied, somewhat shocked by Vince's sudden choice of open discussion. They hadn't mentioned _it_ in weeks. An unspoken agreement where the future was never mentioned. Death, the afterlife or funerals were pushed aside. The elephant in the room - always acknowledged, but never out loud.  
"The whiteness. Everything white. The white light, the clouds… everyone dressed all in white." Vince sighed, his eyes never leaving the colour strewn horizon.

"I don't know, Vince." he replied, following Vince's gaze. The sun had just begun to peak over the steeples of the city, shafts of light flickering across roof tiles. The darkness retreating to an army of red and purple. Orange and hazy pink, the faded blue awaiting the outcome of the battle before it took charge.

"I hope not. White's well boring." Vince chuckled, the smallest light of his old self shining through. It was gone in a heartbeat, replaced by the sallow pained expression that seemed ingrained on his face these days. Naboo's heart contracted sadly.

"What do you want it to be like?"

Vince was quiet a moment. Even before the months of contraband topics of conversation, never had Vince speculated out loud what he wanted in the next life. There had been no denying that he was dying, nothing to stop him from something he seemed determined to do. But he'd never said what he wanted after. What he hoped the next world was like.

"Colours." He whispered. "Like now, I want to be a star, Naboo. A star that sits in the sky, watching it all change. The colours, the people, the world. Looking down on everything. I want colours, Naboo."

Naboo remained quiet, his eyes never straying from Vince. It was strangely peaceful watching him, nothing else in the world mattered when you did. He was relaxing, and terrifying at the same time. A reminder of the perils of the world and yet at the same time a reminder of how beautiful and peaceful life could be.

"Then that's what will happen." he finally replied. Vince shifted a little, but his gaze never left the horizon.

"Do you think Howard still watches the sun rise, like we used to?" Vince murmured, his hands clenching tighter around a shirt of Howard's Naboo had missed. Naboo's heart tightened painfully as he gazed down at it. Vince's fingers white as he clutched at it desperately. As though it was the last thing binding him to earth.

Vince was eerily silent again, waiting for his reply. Naboo waited. Unsure, he couldn't tear his gaze away from it. The tension in Vince's hands was incredible. It seemed he'd never let go. Naboo sighed, how many times had the electro Prince clutched at it like now? How many times had he missed it? Was it so precious that no one could see it? Bear witness to Vince's vulnerability and his last connection to the history behind that bland brown shirt? It seemed so. Seemed as though now, now Vince was letting him see it _meant _something. His heart thumped painfully. Vince looked at him. Blue eyes staring straight through him. Waiting.

"I don't know." He replied truthfully. Vince nodded, shifting his gaze away from Naboo. But the tiny Shaman still saw the pain reflected in those blue eyes as he'd answered.

Vince lay his head back against the pillow, eyes trained once more on the bleeding colours as the sun rose for another day. They fell silent, Vince watching the sky, Naboo watching Vince. Both soothed by the measured slow breathing echoing in the room.

"I do." Vince suddenly murmured, and Naboo was shocked by the shattered silence. He closed his eyes, thinking of what to say. Nothing came. Opening them he faced the silence.

Silence.

Naboo left the chair, stepping forward. His heart in his throat, eyes wide and staring. Bollo remained quiet and unaware. Vince lay staring out the window, a single tear sliding, ever so slowly down his sallow cheeks. Those blue eyes fading.

The silence collapsed in on Naboo.

"Vince?" he whispered, a vain attempt to rouse movement.

It never came.

The silence continued, unbroken.

Naboo bowed his head, tears springing to his eyes. It had been years since Naboo cried. Years.

But he cried now.

Turning away he stumbled towards his room, leaving Bollo to carry on in sleep, unaware that Vince had gone. Leaving him to wake an hour later and roar in anguish before finding Naboo, head in his hands, silent.

"Precious Vince not wake up." Bollo said sadly

"I know." Naboo whispered in reply. "He's gone."

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"He, he went to sleep – that's it." Howard nodded.

"It was peaceful Howard."  
"He hated me."  
"He didn't."

Howard remained silent. Naboo sighed, he had to do it. Had to give them up before he never did. Not that he'd ever read them. He couldn't. They weren't his. But all the same…

He rose to his feet and disappeared into his room. He knew Howard's eyes were following him, but he didn't care. They felt heavy in his hands, forty eight letters. Forty eight rejections. Forty eight declarations of love that were now eternal. He walked back into the room holding them close. It was now or never. The look of Vince's blue eyes sparkling resounded in Naboo's eyes as he held them out.

"Here, he would have wanted you to have these. You should read them. They're all there." He muttered as Howard took the pile of letters. Forty eight envelopes bound together with string. Each one bearing the same address in Vince's childlike scrawl. A year's worth of confusion and pain and undying love and devotion borne in two hundred sheets of paper.

"He loved you, Howard." Naboo muttered. He had to say it. Admit it to the both of them. Admit it out loud. It needed saying now, because it never got it before. It was never said when it would have made a difference.

"You should hate me, Naboo." Howard muttered, taking the letters. His eyes tearing up as he gazed down at them. He was holding them as though they were the most precious thing to him in the world. They should be, Naboo mused.

"I know." Naboo replied. But he couldn't. Vince had never hated him, so why did he have the right to? What could he hold against Howard, when Vince had nothing? Right to the day he died.

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"Thank you." I mutter, Holding the bundle close.

They burn as I hold them. They're so heavy. Forty eight, that number is forever ingrained on my brain.

Forty eight.

I stare down at them. My eyes tracing over each curve as he spelt my name. A loop in the corner of each stroke in the 'h', the circle of the 'o' going too far and looping inwards. Each letter resembling at attempt at calligraphy but never getting so far as to join completely. The tears well up again, but the lock still holds. It's still stuck fast, somewhere between my heart and my throat. I close my eyes for a moment. Drinking it in. I breathe in, and for the first time in two years I smell it. Peaches and vanilla and something spicy. I smell, I smell _Vince._ The last remnant of him, embodied in forty eight letters. My mouth curves, trying to smile. But I wont let it. It's not, well, not _right_. But all the same. I see him on the back of my lids. All black hair and glitter. Eyes sparking like diamonds and his grin splitting his face almost in two.

"_Alrigh' Howard?"_ My lips perk again, I breathe deep.

_Vince._

I open my eyes, Naboo's at the table again, staring at his cup. Eyes focused on the rim. I open my mouth to say something. _Anything_. But what can I say? What is there _to_ say?

I'm sorry? That's not enough. It'll never be enough.

"I'll bring the photo's on the fifth." I mutter, sneaking a glance at him again. His eyes focus on me for a second, before turning back to the cup. He says nothing. The silence stretches.

I stand up to leave; Naboo's continued silence telling me it's time to go. My foot is on the stairs before his voice stops me.

"Howard?" I turn around; he's standing there, watching me with an odd expression on his face. It's almost as though he's half torn between saying something and leaving it be. I wait, watching him. I've roused a lot of memories, that much is clearly evident in the small man's face. In his eyes.

"Yeah?"  
He's silent for a moment. Breathing deep. Questioning. I wait. Holding the letters close. Like they're a lifeline. Strangely enough they are. My last lifeline. My last link. It's almost as though if I let go of them I've failed him again. Failed him for the last time. This is in a way, the only thing I can show him how much I care. By finally listening.

"Do you," Naboo stops for a moment. Taking up the courage one last time. I wait, all the same. Waiting for him. He coughs, clearing his throat before he speaks. It's clear as day but strangely vulnerable. Something I'd never thought I'd think about the Shaman in front of me.

"Do you watch the sun rise?"  
I stare. He's standing there, waiting. I adjust the package under my arm. The weight of Vince's letters is strangely more trying with the added weight of the silence that follows.

"Yes. Yes, I do." I reply. I glimpse Naboo nod as I turn around and walk out of the shop. I have one place to be right now. One place in the world – and it's not here. And Naboo knows it. I hold the letters close. Forty eight messages from Vince. It's time to listen. Time… its time to be.

He has after all been waiting a long time, and strangely enough, so have I.


	11. Snippets from the Cutting Room Floor

Cut bits – Vince's side to the story

Cut bits – Vince's side to the story

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_**Alright this is the original version of this scene that I wrote. It's from Vince's POV rather than Naboo's in the actual story. When I posted it I only had to change three words, but I've increased it for you so it's inside Vince's head properly. When I wrote it, it was just an outsider's account from Vince, lol. So I hope this alternate view interests you, but I kinda think posting these is rather pointless – but I've always wondered over my fave fics what was missing or what went on from the other side, so it may be of some interest. I'll stop now and let you read it, :P**_

"You have to tell him, Vince."  
"No. He hates me. He should hate me. I said terrible things to him Naboo. Horrible things. I don't deserve to see him again."  
"Vince, this is serious. He'd want to know."

"No, Naboo." Vince muttered back, curled up on the couch he hugged his knees tighter. Why couldn't he ignore it? Why wouldn't it leave him alone? Why couldn't it just get out of his head? But there it was, bouncing around in his skull, reminding him again and again and again.

A tumour. He was dying. Dying, as in dead – and Howard wasn't there to save him.

"_I'm sorry, Mr Noir. There's nothing we can do."_

How could there be nothing? Howard wouldn't have nothing to do. He'd find something. They'd find something together. Howard could always help. But Howard wasn't here. He'd driven Howard away; his own cruel words had driven Howard away. What right did he have to ask Howard back? What could he do but crawl to Howard on his knees, beg him to come back. Beg him to save him? How could he do that to himself, how could he do that to Howard? Tears slipped down his cheeks as he saw the image of disgust in Howard's gaze.

"Vince – "

"No." he muttered, cutting Naboo short. No. He couldn't.

"He'll understand."  
"No, I don't deserve it."  
"He'd want to know."

"No." he struggled to mutter.  
"Vince, this isn't something light that you can ignore. You miss him, and I'm sure he misses you."  
"Doesn't matter." And it didn't. How could he come back, after all this time? Just for him, for Vince? Just to make _his _life a little easier. Coming back would just make Howard's life harder. How could he do that? He pulled his knees closer to his chest, trying to wrap his arms around himself, but it wasn't the same. Wasn't the same as when Howard hugged him…

"It does matter."  
He didn't answer, letting the silence continue. How could it matter, what was it about him that could matter that much? It was amazing that Howard had stuck around as long as he did. Ten years was a long time to spend with a self obsessed nonce like himself. Especially himself.

"Vince, tell him. It's, it's not worth it." Naboo said, voice smaller than usual. Vince glanced up for a moment. Naboo was staring, a look in his eyes he'd never seen before. He looked away. He couldn't face it. Not this early. Not this conversation.

They'd reached it. He was dying. There was no escaping this.

He was dying.

And he was alone.

"Don't care." He muttered, looking away.  
"Vince you do care. Why else would you be like this?" Naboo was earnest now. He wasn't going to leave this conversation alone. Vince shifted in his seat.  
"Like what?" he mumbled,

"Vince you've barely left the window. You need to do something. It's not healthy."  
"That doesn't matter, does it?" he replied, even before he managed to think about what he was saying.

Naboo fell silent. It was a helpless battle and it seemed Naboo finally realised that. It was about time. Vince had accepted it the moment the Doctor had asked whether there would be anyone else he needed to explain the situation to.

"_No, there's… there's no one." _

"Vince." He started again, a sigh – like his resolution was fading.  
"No, Naboo. Just leave me alone." The tiny Shaman sighed and turned away, leaving Vince once more, alone at the window. Watching the sky.

"_We should do this again, yeah?"  
"I'd like that, Little Man."_

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_**This bit I originally wrote and was going to include – but then I reminded myself that this story couldn't include stuff from Vince's POV so I disappointingly rearranged how I was constructing chapter 9, 'When the Hope Dies' and had to totally remove this part where Vince sees Howard, cause Howard didn't know Vince was there and Naboo wasn't there either. At one stage I was going to have Naboo and Bollo there, but then I realised if Naboo was there he would have approached Howard and Hanna and yelled right off at them, so it wouldn't have worked. **_

Vince spun around, that voice echoing in his head. He was sick of it. Sick of his own mind playing tricks on him. One of the women in the crowd looked at him and Vince wasn't sure whether she was checking him out or questioning his sanity. Probably both, not that he cared anymore – it was a long time since he'd cared enough to much really. It'd been too long since he'd been out of the flat _to_ care. He spun around again, listening to the sound of Howard's voice. That rough leeds accent sticking out like a sore thumb amongst the London lingo. It was a maze of different heads and shoulders amongst the stalls. But then he saw him.

Vince stared, his heart plummeting. Howard laughed, even at his distance Vince could see his tiny eyes glinting as he looked at the young woman beside him. He couldn't hear what they said anymore, the sound of the world evaporating as he drank him in. Absorbing everything he could from the look of them. Howard. The way Howard looked, made his heart stop. Made it ache. Howard didn't need him.

Howard had never really needed him.

_Never._ The tiny voice giggled fading off into his brain.

Howard laughed again as the young woman took his hand and dragged him over to a stand lined with Jazz records.

A wave of nausea hit Vince like a hammer and all of a sudden he felt the familiar onset rush as a headache returned. The familiar feeling as though his skull was being split in two. Tears sprouted in his eyes and he turned away, weaving through the crowd back the way he came.

If he'd waited but a second longer Howard would have turned to meet Vince's gaze, instead the jazz maverick turned to only see a mass of bobbing heads, a black artwork lost in the maze of brown and blonde. One second was all it took to break Vince's heart.

One second was all it could have taken to mend it.

One second.

_**This part was what I originally had for 'When the Hope dies' but again, from Vince's POV it wouldn't have worked, but I really liked the fragility and faith Vince has for Howard in it – even due to his illness. So due to my emotional depravity and the fact I actually like it, I chose to include these little snippets. This would have directly followed the above scene, but I never got around to writing the link, mainly due to the fact I chose to cut it, lol. Here we go:**_

Vince heard Naboo call his name as he rushed into the flat. He ignored him. All he wanted was to disappear. To forget he'd ever gone out. Forget the happiness in Howard's gaze. Howard was happy without him, that's why he never read the letters. Why he never opened them. He was showing Vince he didn't need him. Tears sprouted to Vince's eyes as he ran into his room, slamming the door behind him. Tears were running in droves down his cheeks as he slid down the back of the door. Trying to suppress his sobs he sat there, crying for an age. The sound of Naboo's voice echoing through the wood, but he couldn't understand a single word the Shaman said and he didn't say a single thing back. He simply cried until there were no more tears.

_Howard I'm sorry. Please, I'm sorry._ He repeated over and over in his head.

_I'm sorry. Please Howard. Help me, please. I'm sorry._

But Howard couldn't hear him, Howard wouldn't listen.

But he had to try. Struggling to his feet, Vince stumbled to the side of his room, his feet going out from under him sending him crashing onto the desk. A wave of hair products and paint bottles falling to the ground with him.

Raiding the scattering on the floor Vince found pen and paper, and once again wrote the familiar address, his addled brain forgetting that the letters always came back, ignoring the pain and confusing itself into believing that that this time, this time Howard would listen.

_Dear Howard…_

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_**I wrote and had every intention of including this scene, as it was going to help show Vince's erratic state of mind. But I found I didn't really need it and I couldn't find the best place for it to go. Hence it wound up on the cutting room floor. I think the best place it would have fit would have been somewhere in Chapter 4 'Rising Sun' or Chapter 5 'The Break up and the break down' – but I couldn't find the right place for it. Much like the next scene as well. **_

Glancing over at the couch Howard smiled as he took in Vince. He was perched on the couch, knees up against his chest, his hands clenched around his boots. If anyone else saw him they would have thought he was moping. Howard knew better, it was simply how Vince sat when he was content. He was like a monkey. Always climbing on everything. Howard smiled as he listened to the sound of Colobus the Crab echoing from the television. Damn show, he didn't know why they spent every Wednesday watching it when they'd seen it a million times before, but even though he complained, it was only to induce an argument from Vince. It was only to have fun. And if they were having fun then he'd watch Colobus a thousand times again. It was nice to see Vince watching the show. Howard's heart swelled, maybe next Wednesday would return to normal. Maybe he'd over reacted at Vince's attitude on Wednesday, it was after all possible for him to over react. Chuckling at himself, Howard took his tea and walked out into the lounge room.

"Colobus the Crab," he tutted, watching Vince stare at the television as though he'd never seen the images before.

"Yeah, I missed it the other night." Vince muttered, his eyes never leaving the screen.

"Vince you've seen every episode a thousand times. Don't you think it's enough?" Howard grinned, pushing that little bit. Waiting for Vince to playfully bite back.  
"So? What's it to you?" Vince snapped, his head turning sharply to face Howard. Howard winced, shocked. Vince's face was paler than usual, wan almost, and he never snapped like this when they bickered - especially about Colobus. It was just what they did, Vince would randomly put it on, Howard would complain for a moment, they'd settle down and wind up watching an entire season before the day finished. That was the game. That was part of the magic of the show. It was the way of things. It had never been like this. But what scared Howard was the look in Vince's eyes. They were harsh, angry and he thought for a moment crinkled in pain, but it was gone before he knew it.

"I was just saying Vince."  
"Yeah well you say it every fucking time Howard. I'll watch what I want – bloody hell. 'S'not like I'm asking you to watch it. Like you said, you watched it the other night." He scowled getting to his feet.

"Where are you going? Vince!"

"Fuck off Howard, I've got a headache." Vince spat stalking off, the sound of his door slamming echoing around the flat over the sounds of the still blazing television.

Howard sat where he was, stunned as a mullet.

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_**This is the last scene that I've got to show you, and I actually wrote this one before I wrote it from Howard's POV as seen in chapter 3 'Colobus Cranky. But I thought it would be interesting to show the different way Vince reacted to both Howard and Naboo over the same incident, but I never would up using it. It again, didn't fit where I wanted it to – 'Rising Sun' I think it was, or I even contemplated it further in, in chapter 7 I think, 'Unseen Decay' – but I couldn't crow bar it in so I left it for here. **_

Naboo glanced down at his watch, 7:27 glowing in the dim light. Looking up he was surprised to see the couch still empty. Vince never missed Colobus – repeat or otherwise.

"Bollo, go and turn Colobus on, would you?" he asked his familiar who grunted in assent as Naboo headed up the hallway.

Vince's door was shut and Naboo knocked politely before entering. Vince was splayed out on the bed sideways. His eyes were clamped shut and his palms rested over his lids. The lights were at their dimmest but electro continued to blast out of the speakers at an unnatural volume.

"Vince, it's 7:30 – Colobus is on." Naboo said loudly, over the sound of the CD. Vince removed his hands from his eyes and cringed.

"Jeez Naboo, turn the lights down would you. It's way bright in here." Naboo frowned.

"Vince, if you turn the lights down any more you'd be in the dark."

Vince looked confused for a moment, rolling over he pushed himself up, wincing as he did so. Raising a hand to his head.

"Right." He muttered "Look I've got a blazing headache, Naboo. I'm gonna stay here."

"If you're sure."

"Yeah."

"Do you want Bollo to bring you something to eat?"  
"Nah." He replied, flopping back down on the covers to resume the position he had before.

"Turn the lights off would you, Naboo?" he asked,

"You know it may help if you turned the volume down." Naboo muttered moving over to the CD player.

"Nah – it helps with the thumping." Vince replied and Naboo bit his tongue.

"Well we're out here if you want us." He muttered and Vince made no recognition he'd said anything. Shaking his head Naboo switched off the lights and pulled the door shut behind him.

"Vince watch Colobus?" Bollo asked, from where he was seated on the couch.

"Nah." Naboo replied collapsing on the couch beside the gorilla.

"What?" Howard asked, peering in from the kitchen.

"Vince isn't up to watching it tonight."

"That's odd – he never misses it." Howard mused, "I'm going to see what's wrong."

"No, Howard!" but the Jazz maverick was gone before Naboo could finish.

"I got a bad feeling about this." Bollo muttered.

Naboo nodded.

"Yeah." But Naboo was sure Bollo wasn't talking about the same thing he was.

_**There we go, Unanswered Letters is finished!! I'm really thankful for the lovely response you all gave me, despite my rather depressing subject matter. You've made me fall in love with the site and I'm going to write a lot more once my exams are over and post them all here. :P so you haven't scared me off! Anyway, I'm dedicating this chapter to Swisstony, because she's the one (reviewer) who was able to withstand my intention to make you all cry. I was reading my author's messages the other day and I sound right conceited, lol, but I almost managed it! :P (dammit) Sorry everyone! I'll make it my intention to write something long and fluffy at some point after the exams, just to make up for it. But at the moment I have something in the works that's right damn angsty again – though not to these excesses and I've been requested to write a sequel to this, so I'll try and get that up as soon as I can. Though I doubt you can expect anything but a one shot between now and the 20**__**th**__** or so of November, DAMN those exams!! Any idea's you want to shoot my way is fine by me – ill need something to stimulate the mind tanks at the moment, give me something to mull over in the short spaces between Peter Skrzynecki, Shakespeare, Cloudstreet, pythagoras' theorem, calculus, Athens, Van Gogh, Pericles, Picasso, Software design Structures and algorithms… god its putting me to sleep just thinking about it! **_

_**Once again I thank all of you for your reviews and kind words, and yes, tears – there's nothing quite logging on to find eight messages from people telling you they're balling their eyes out to make you feel good about your story. How weird does that sound? **_

_**THANK YOU!**_

_**HAVE CAKE, AND LOLLIES AND ALL THINGS NICE! THE PARTY'S ON ME! **_

_**boogies down **_

_**One finished story down… everything else in my head to go. XD**_

_**Jacqui XXX**_


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